


Fire Over Ice

by willowthorn



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light on the ot4 but know in my heart it’s there, Wilderness Survival, see previous tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowthorn/pseuds/willowthorn
Summary: Goemon and Fujiko are stranded alone on an island. Winter winds and a lack of supplies would be no challenge for Goemon alone, but as Fujiko falls ill after nearly drowning, waiting until rescue comes proves to be not as easy.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Arsène Lupin III, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Mine Fujiko
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Fire Over Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’d by Miki

Fire can be a blessing, fire can be a prayer. A prayer for warmth returning to her frigid skin, a prayer for someone to find them. Fire can burn against him as he reaches his arm through the wreckage of their boat, water hissing as oil lights. 

He had pulled Fujiko to shore in the dead of night, the Atlantic a dark smear reflecting golden flame. The sand is pale in the low light of the stars, the moon hidden behind shadow. 

The coast of Canada, snow clad, is just beyond the horizon’s edge. Goemon knows this. They had stolen from city life a mere twenty minutes ago, small cruiser destined to meet a larger ship captained by Jigen while Lupin made sure the local police were thoroughly occupied on shore.

It had gone wrong. 

Zenigata has used a woman against him, distracted him with her long nails and wide eyes. His timing had been thrown, their getaway delayed. Lupin split from them because of that, because they needed an extra distraction, because he was confident that even though Goemon had failed to follow his orders, his plan, he would not fail Lupin again. 

Goemon watches Fujiko breathe in the light of the signal fire. He watches every hitch, listening carefully to see if there was still water in her lungs. He does not think about how he had to tip her head back, bare throat pale under his calloused fingers. How even though he moved to save her life she still hadn’t awoken. 

She would in fine. He was sure. Fujiko always slept late anyway. 

He thinks he sees the light of a ship blink in the distance once, twice, before they slip back under the black waves. He stares unblinking at the horizon for what feels like hours. 

He keeps his vigil until morning, pale northern light exposing scrubland and a few sea-birds. Fujiko is still breathing. His arms hurt when he stokes the banked fire, blistered skin breaking. 

Fujiko’s voice comes with the full strength of the winter sun. It’s weak and breaking as it pulls Goemon from his light meditation. 

“Where…?” She’s sitting up, hand to her stinging lungs. He knows with a spark of shame that he bruised her rib cage, his strength an enemy in that moment. 

“Lay back down. We’re safe for now, but stranded. How much do you remember?” He’s by her side in an instant, brushing back copper hair. Her skin is dry and too-hot in the cool air. He pulls his jacket from her lap, tries his best to cover her completely. 

“Mm… Lupin ditched us to play with that old creep. Then the boat crashed. Is the diamond alright? You did save it too, right?” She stares at him with such intensity, a pout of her lips, ready to hate him if he lost her prize. 

“You held onto it admirably. I could not part you from it even if I wanted.” He breathes relief, her eyes lighting up as she finds the gem in her pile of warmth. She’ll be fine, if she’s this animated despite it all. Goemon has to trust in that.

“I will bring us food, and something to ease your fever. Can you stay awake until I return?” 

“Please, I’m just as durable as you boys, I’m just not as stupid. Go hunt, it’ll be fine.” She rolls her eyes, lets him adjust her back against a pale driftwood log so she can watch the rolling sea. 

Seagulls are easy to hunt, but they scream as a flock as he pulls the feathers away from their fallen brother in great bloody clumps. The sky is grey and the winds high, and he catches two. Their meat is greasy and gamey in a way Fujiko does not like, but he cooks them as best he can, and she tolerates the meal. 

In the shadow of a threatening storm, Goemon builds a shelter. Fujiko’s fever sends sweat rolling down her skin as he works, a torn strip of his sleeve working as a cold compress when dipped in seawater. The salt makes it stiff, but it works all the same. 

The lean-to is barely big enough for her to lay down in and takes the majority of the downed wood on the island. But it is stable, and it is warmer than outside even though the storm sprays cold rain through the small gaps within the branches. 

She sleeps. He watches. She curls against him, searching for warmth, for a way to protect herself from the rain and wind. He cards his fingers through her hair, and they wait. 

Water becomes the first problem. There’s no way to gather the rain and there is no way to filter the ocean. Goemon has ways to survive - he is used to such things - but Fujiko needs cleaner water, needs more than gull to pull through. He carves stone when the storm breaks into simple showers, no winds threatening to rip their shelter apart. He still needs to burn it to purify the rock before letting the rains fill it. He waits.

The last of the icy rains stop sometime around 2 am. Damp wood smokes and sputters, but eventually catches on the drier interior exposed by zantetsuken. He watches the bowl turn red in the flames, flushes it with seawater. When the rains return at dawn he is ready, watching as the bowl slowly fills. Fujiko’s body is tight and warm against him. All he can do is let her rest. There’s no willow he can strip the bark from to make a healing tea, there’s no resin he can make her chew to help break that heat. There are no soft herbs that grow in winter. There’s a hollow in his chest that he knows well to ignore.

They shelter together like this for three days and nights. 

In Fujiko’s more lucid moments they talk. She curses the rock they are stranded on. She jokes that Jigen and Lupin were probably off spending the rest of the money while they were stuck here, one measly diamond between them. They imagine together what they could be doing instead. She imagines the warmth and comfort of the city. He imagines fresh fish and fragrant rice. She notices the red burns on his forearms haven’t healed, and presses the cloth that had been her compress against them, any of the cool relief she had felt from it now dried up. He returns to the ocean, and she demands he strips himself of his snow-streaked kimono before joining her for warmth. 

There is no account Goemon can give of her fever dreams that give them justice. He holds her tight against his chest in those moments, lets her scream and cry against him. He hopes that the boat will come soon. 

He can feel the fever pass to him on the fourth day. He wakes tired, muscles aching as he stretches outside the shelter, icy rain replaced with gentle snow. It cuts him, it soothes the burn on his arms. He watches his breath gather in his hands, and he stokes the fire on the beach just beyond the shelter of the treeline. The smoke, if nothing else, will help guide their rescue closer. He’s sure. 

They eat gull again. The taste of it lingers, unpleasant. He would rather fish, but nothing bites in the choppy waters and he cannot dive without risking more. 

They fall asleep in the afternoon together in the shelter, twisted together under branches. 

He wakes at night, the crunching of snow pulling him away from Fujiko’s arms. Her breathing is laboured where he feels it against his arm. Zantetsuken is in his hands before he has the chance to feel relieved, before his mind catches up with his body and he can smell Jigen’s cigarettes and Lupin’s cologne on the stiff breeze. 

“Woah, down there samurai, it’s just us.” Jigen has his hands up, metal against his throat. “You look like shit. Fujiko in there?” He nods towards the shelter, little more than a white-dusted pile of debris as Lupin pokes his head in, jostling the carefully laid branches. 

“What took you so long?” Goemon’s sword returns to his side as he moves to help Lupin gather Fujiko and her small nest of dried leaves and jackets into his arms. He doesn’t register Jigen’s answer as they kick down the shelter, scatter the remains of the fire as they cross the beach to the boat. He’s bundled along with Fujiko in the back, Jigen driving as Lupin fusses over them. Fujiko takes priority, her clothes changed and hair tied back as he makes her as comfortable as possible. He only turns to Goemon once she’s settled, clean white compress resting over her brow. Goemon doesn’t look at him, doesn’t flinch as his burns are dressed. Lupin kisses his burning cheeks, squeezes his hands tightly, and does not scold him for not doing better. 

“I was really worried, you know?” Lupin admits, wringing out another cloth to lay on Goemon’s head. “Next time you want to elope with Fujiko, invite me, ok?” 

“I make no promises.” Goemon lets the hollow in his chest fill, Fujiko’s hand soft in his when she reaches out. Safety waits for them ashore.

**Author's Note:**

> Please find me @willowthorn on Twitter (search firehands sunkisser). If you enjoyed this work and would like to help support me moving out of a toxic environment, please message me to discuss commission rates and options.


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